


Finals

by blazersandbarricades



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Developing Relationship, Eventual Relationships, Exams, Fluff and Angst, Heart-to-Heart, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-18
Updated: 2013-05-18
Packaged: 2018-04-14 06:21:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4554063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blazersandbarricades/pseuds/blazersandbarricades
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>College AU. Mainly Jehan’s point of view. Finals are in full swing and Jehan has pressured himself to do well, perfectly content to study alone, that is until Courf gets word of his routine, and decides to stay with him in the library, every single day until exams are over. Pretty much all fluffy rainbows for this ship! Enjoy! Let me know what you think.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Finals

It had taken weeks to muster up the courage and strength to commit himself to admire defeat: he was in love, utterly engulfed, and obsessively focused on nothing but the addictive charm of his friend. He’d ignored the signals for so long; he couldn’t begin to remember when they’d started – Okay that was a lie. Jehan knew exactly when he fell in love with Courfeyrac.

Finals weeks had been dreadfully stressful for everyone, but had taken a surprising toll on Jehan’s usual calm manner. Becoming almost frantic at acing his literature exams, he’d burrowed himself into comfortable corners of the library, working long into the night, cramming information, passages of poetry, and historical details in a singular-focused frenzy.

Being in his senior year, these finals determined if he could graduate with honours intact. Jehan was proud of himself for earning the achievement, and paying for his schooling himself, refusing the generous offers of his parents. Jehan had wanted to pursue a devoted career in literature by himself, driven by ambition and passion.

Combeferre had warned him not to push himself so hard, but in Jehan’s opinion, he was merely following his dream, so the pressure didn’t seem as horrid. Of course, everyone else was busy studying for their own exams, so the advice slowly faded, which left the poet in an independent state to do what he liked. That was until Courfeyrac got wind of his routine.

It became a pattern for Jehan to find Courf in his spot in the library, always early, no matter if Jehan arrived earlier than usual. He was beginning to think that Courfeyrac slept in the library, and the though made him smile fondly.

Once it was apparent that Courf wasn’t about to leave him alone, Jehan met him every morning with a coffee and homemade muffins. (Cosette baked whenever exams came up, and when Jehan heard of this fact, he offered to join her). Sometimes they broke for lunch, and Courfeyrac always gave the waiter/waitress a nice tip, which Jehan found endearing.

Since Jehan spent his time studying the details in poems, stories, or autobiographies, he appreciated their importance and treasured them deeply, especially Courf’s. He ignored the motives of why he cared so deeply for the little things his friend did, excusing them as strictly platonic, despite the nagging romanticism in the back of his mind.

Whenever he asked why Courfeyrac endured long days in silence when it was obvious this was not typical study habits for the dark-haired boy, he was only presented with a smile. It became proof an hour into the first day Courf joined Jehan when he shifted uncomfortably in his seat seven times within a half-hour. Jehan had asked what was wrong, and Courf went on a rant regarding his “illness” of procrastinationitis. Reminding his friend that while he appreciated the company, Courfeyrac didn’t  _have_ to stay, but the suggestion was declined. Jehan accepted defeat with a nod, returning to his books, marking specific pages with sticky notes of various colours.

To be quite honest, Courfeyrac spent more time staring a Jehan’s mannerisms rather than his own text books. Although he’d tried to remain inconspicuous, Jehan had caught him in the act a few times, eliciting a bluish from the both of them. Multiple unspoken glances were exchanged over the course of the following weeks, and Courfeyrac’s cheery presence was severely missed by Jehan as the boy took his first psychology exam of the season.

Midway through his French literature exam, Jehan was interrupted by thoughts of how Courf may be acting on his own absence, comparing experiences internally before realizing he still had a second essay question to write.

Courfeyrac finished his exams before Jehan. How he managed to focus in a three hour exam was beyond Jehan’s comprehension, but Courf was always okay on tests – he had a good memory which allowed him to be more jumpy without worrying over the consequences. Jehan had expected to be saying his goodbyes and returning to solo study session for his last exam, but Courfeyrac greeted him in the library the following morning.

“What? No muffins today?”

“I…I thought you were leaving later today?”

“Nope. I lied. I’m keeping you company until you’re done tonight. I promised, well not verbally, but in my head I did.” Courfeyrac grinned as the boy sat down across from him stunned. He smiled at the two cups of coffee Jehan must’ve bought by habit, and leaned back in his seat. “But in all seriousness, what happened to the muffins?”

“Oh, um Cosette stayed over at Marius’ after our poetry final last night. Enjolras was glad we weren’t waking him up with our late night baking though.” Jehan smiled small, glancing down as he unpacked his books and slid the second coffee over to Courfeyrac. “Habit.” He laughed softly, and caught Courf’s eye. “You don’t have to stay—“

“Doesn’t that sound familiar?” Courfeyrac grinned and sipped his coffee.

Jehan stammered in confusion and blushed in reply. “Thank you, for breaking your normal study habits for me…I know it hasn’t been easy to sit quietly all day for these past weeks. Don’t disagree, I saw you getting antsy, even if you blame it on your _disease_.”

“Lots of people suffer form it! I’m not alone!” Courfeyrac smiled with a nod. “Honestly, it was no trouble. I like spending time with you, Jehan.”

“But you spend time with me outside of school often; I mean…this… _this_  is different.” Jehan confessed quietly, flushing a deep pink that caused Courf to nearly spill his coffee because of the unspoken meaning behind Jehan’s words.

“…It is.” Courf replied slowly, desperately trying to gage his friend’s reaction as to know if he was beginning to overstep boundaries he’d spent weeks perfecting.

Jehan paused for a few moments, which worried Courfeyrac and he shifted in his seat uneasy. “…Why? Why are you doing all this?” He asked in an almost inaudible murmur, aimlessly trailing his fingers around the rim of his coffee cup. Even though the assumed answer was likely correct, Jehan wanted confirmation.

Now it was Courfeyrac’s turn to be silent. He cleared his throat, searching for the words he wanted to say. Words were Jehan’s expertise; he was the poet, not Courf. Courfeyrac barely understood poetry apart from whenever Jehan went on explanations of admiration for someone Courfeyrac often googled after those conversations. Or the few times Jehan recited poems to him, practicing for class presentations. Courf thought he may understand why someone would write beautiful, occasionally lengthy stanzas about something, or a specific person. Courf definitely understood the ability to go on and on with endless feelings regarding how a person impacted him, or the perfection they embodied without even knowing it themselves. He understood the action, just had a difficult time performing it.

“I wanted to.” Courfeyrac began, meeting Jehan’s gaze and holding it as he continued. “I didn’t want you to be alone, not when you’re stressed. I know you’ve put a lot of pressure on yourself and didn’t want you to feel like no one noticed, because I noticed. I noticed how you’d tense up, and how you need to have your pens lined up in a certain way, and how you alternate specific colours, and only use an orange highlighter when going through your notes.

“I noticed how your eyebrows furrow together when you focus too hard, how you can somehow survive four hours straight with no break, or food, and just one coffee. I noticed how you always inhale the smell of your poetry textbooks, and only those out of all subjects, as if you want to appreciate everything about the words I don’t know if I’ll ever understand. I noticed that you nervously re-braid the bottom half of your hair and chew on the inside of your cheek as you study, and that you always have this intricate way of looping ribbons through your braid perfects without even checking it in a mirror.

“I also noticed how you used to stare out the window as if you were missing something and you sort of looked lonely, so once ‘Ferre mentioned that you weren’t sleeping much at your place, I knew something was up. That maybe you needed someone to stay with you to keep you sane so you didn’t mentally run yourself into the ground with the stress you’re under. I know you like your solitary, but there’s a difference between that and being alone…I didn’t want you to be alone.” Courfeyrac finally finished, smiling small before looking down and taking a nervous gulp of coffee.

Jehan sat astonished, quiet and wide-eyed at his friend. He hadn’t realized Courf had paid such devoted attention to him before and during their study sessions. For a boy who claimed he knew nothing of poetry, Jehan thought his rambling was the prettiest thing he’d heard in a long time.

He smiled in adoration and wordlessly fathered his study notes together, causing Courf to assume he’d blown everything and Jehan was packing up to leave. Courf wasn’t going to force him out of his comfort zone anymore than he’d already done, so the boy ran a hand through his curls and stood up, coughing out of humiliation. “Sorry, I’ll leave you—I, sorry, I shouldn’t have said—“

“No. Please stay.” Jehan interrupted with a solemn expression at Courfeyrac’s attempt to apologize. “I…There’s no need to apologize…I just wanted to show you something.” Jehan blushed; face turning a furious shade of red as he pushed the papers in Courf’s direction.

Resuming his position, Courfeyrac sat back down and scanned through Jehan’s notes, confused until he glanced at the scrawled margins. Jehan had scribbled various lines and fragments of poems complete with doodles accompanying the words. It was strikingly different from his somewhat OCD form of note taking, that Courf raised an eyebrow. “What does it mean? I don’t know what I’m meant to look at from these?”

“The margins—“

“Yes, but what about them?”

“They’re about you…” Jehan answered shyly, twirling his hair around his finger while looking down, scared to meet his friend’s eyes.

Courfeyrac read through the words with a determined need to understand the fancy language. It caught him off guard, but he wanted to know what Jehan had written about him. “Are these all your poems? They’re originals?” He questioned, not tearing his eyes from the notes.

“Yes. They’re all mine.” Jehan replied soft, daring to glance up, just catching the moment of realization creeping over Courfeyrac’s face which caused him to smile brighter.

“I…I think I get it now…These are so pretty, Jehan…I…You really wrote about me? I guess I am a distraction.” Courf blushed and set down the papers, looking back at the poet.

Jehan spoke up carefully. “What do you think?”

“I think you have one more final tonight, and I should let you study for it before distracting you further.” Courfeyrac smirked but the blush didn’t disappear.

Jehan’s disappointment was evident and Courfeyrac wanted nothing more than to kiss the pout from Jehan’s face, but knew the boy had only a few more hours before his last exam and didn’t want to risk Jehan’s future this close to the end.

“I promise I’ll tell you what I think after your exam. You can meet me back here once you’re done. I will wait for you.” Courf continued with calm honesty.

“But, it’s a three hour exam, Courf, and you shouldn’t have to sit here bored. You’re finished your exams. I’ve kept you here long enough.” Jehan answered in a broken tone that made Courf’s heart pain. Jehan apparently took his refusal to explain his reaction as a complete rejection.

Perhaps he should stop trying to explain himself through words, and return to physical touches. Courfeyrac took Jehan’s hand in his own and looked the boy straight in the eyes with a genuine smile. This set Jehan at ease for a little, and he kept watching Courfeyrac for a few minutes without talking, until his phone beeped an alarm reminder that startled them both from their trance.

“Okay.” Jehan replied after shutting off his phone. “Wait for me. I’d like that.”

“I would, too.” Courf beamed back and urged Jehan to return to work and he plugged in his headphones. It didn’t stop him from fondly watching the boy copy out study notes and go over the things Jehan had wrote about him in his mind.

He made a mental note to tell ‘Ferre about that later while Jehan was in his exam because he  _did_  need something to preoccupy those three hours now that he had a big inclination of knowing how Jehan felt about him.

~

 **Courf:**  i think jehan likes me

 **Courf:**  he wrote poetry ABOUT ME! ME! in the margins of his study notes?!

 **Courf:** and brought me a muffin and coffee everyday

 **Courf: i**  guess thats kinda friendly too but POETRY means s/t else right??

 **Courf:**  oh & i told him why i stayed with him these past weeks

 **Combeferre:**  Wait? Overload here…He wrote about you?

 **Courf:** YES! LOTS OF TIMES!!

 **Combeferre:** Okay. What did you say about it?

 **Courf:** that he should study since im being distracting

 **Courf:**  then he looked all sad so i told him id wait for him after the exam & tell him then

 **Combeferre:**  Tell him what exactly?

 **Courf:**  the truth

 **Combeferre:**  What you told me?

 **Courf:**  yes

 **Combeferre:**  Good luck.

 **Courf:**  im scared…what if he hates me after??

 **Combeferre:**  He won’t.

 **Courf:**  BUT WHAT IF HE DOES?!?!?

 **Combeferre:**  He wrote poetry about you. He doesn’t hate you.

 **Courf:**  we dont know that for sure yet tho

 **Combeferre:**  Yes, we do.

 **Courf:**  DONT JINX IT!

 **Combeferre:** What time is he finished?

 **Courf:**  10pm. he just left not long ago

 **Combeferre:**  That means a lot of texts…Maybe you should come over instead?

 **Courf:**  NO! I SAID ID WAIT HERE!

 **Combeferre:**  Okay, I’m coming over. We need groceries anyway.

 **Courf:**  deal

~

Courfeyrac had gushed about everything to Combeferre for an hour and a half. Luckily ‘Ferre knew about this from the start, but he’d mostly heard Courf’s side; though it was blatantly obvious to everyone,  _except_  Courfeyrac and Jehan that they were practically together already.

Combeferre humoured his charismatic roommate and gave advice as to how Courf should go about explaining himself to the poet, even though ‘Ferre knew very well that Courf would forget it altogether in a fluster once Jehan returned to the library.

When it hit the two hour mark, Courfeyrac frantically kicked Combeferre out in fear Jehan may finish early. His roommate wished him good luck for a second time before leaving to get groceries.

Courf spent the last fifty-seven minutes watching the clock and researching poetry to gain better understanding of some of the phrases Jehan had written about him. However, when the object of his affections returned, Courf could only hug him in response.

“You’re done! How does it feel?”

“Odd. But I’m still not off the hook until I know the marks.” Jehan sighed, trying to feel relieved but still wary of his commitments.

“Well, we won’t know for a few more weeks, yet. Let’s go get ice cream to celebrate!” Courfeyrac suggested, not caring about the time of night, and luckily the poet grinned in reply.

Halfway through his strawberry ice cream, Jehan voiced his earlier concern, “Will you honestly tell me what you think about my poems?”

Courf smiled and licked the spot of ice cream from his own nose before replying. “They’re beautiful.”

Jehan flushed humbly, and continued. “Thank you…but I mean…What I said about you…Is that okay?”

“Are you asking my permission to write about me? Freedom of speech, Jehan. It’s fine really, I—“Courfeyrac started innocently, still oblivious to what Jehan wanted to hear since he’d planned out his “elaborate” response prior with Combeferre.

“No, Courfeyrac. I want to know if you understand how I feel about you.” Jehan blurted out, hiding behind his ice cream cone.

Courfeyrac became flustered by the comment, just as Combeferre had said he’d be, and bit into the waffle cone, swallowing hard before staring at the equally nervous poet. “I think I do…”

“Good.” Jehan sighed shakily, and then tried to return to his melting ice cream that has started to drip onto his fingers.

Courf wiped the pink droplet form his nimble fingers carefully, which reminded Jehan of how protective the boy had been over the past few weeks, and it made him even jitterier.

“Yes.” Courf confirmed with a smile. They sat in comfortable silence again, ignoring their melting ice creams as their eyes mutually conveyed truths to each other.

“Jehan?” Courfeyrac asked inching further towards him, breaking the silence and take the boy’s hand, passing him a spare ice cream bowl as he cleaned Jehan’s hand once more.

“Yes?” Jehan questioned, letting Courf hold his hand, dropping the ice cream into the bowl instead, knowing he wouldn’t finish it anyway, especially since Courfeyrac was already done with his.

“Why did you write about me?”

“Because I wanted to.” He answered quickly; worried it was a loaded question.

“What would you want more? To write about me? Or to tell me instead?” Courfeyrac continued, resting his elbows on the table, keeping his fingers clasped to Jehan’s.

Blue eyes met brown, and a fervent blushed stayed on Jehan’s cheeks as he laced his fingers with Courf’s. He hesitated before answering, “Both.”

“What would you rather I do?” He asked, and this time Jehan was the one to close the distance between them.

“Please tell me. I need to know, Courf.” Jehan whispered with a hint of desperation.

Courfeyrac practically melted at the sound of his name, and readied himself for his confession. “I waited for you for a reason. I stayed with you for a reason. I get nervous about how to tell you because of this reason. I’m not like you, who can write it out in poems, I don’t have that ability. So, I show it. I show it by my actions, and this reason had been eating away at me for a while, and I don’t think enough actions can express it, so I guess I have to say it, and it will never measure up to how you could, but that’s why I love you so—Oh shit—I already said it! Shit! I—No—I wanted to say it differently! I had a speech and—“

“You love me?” Jehan grinned wider than Courf had ever seen before and he nodded curtly with a blush.

“I love you.”

Jehan surged forward and kissed him with more force than had been expected, so Courfeyrac slid a hand around Jehan’s neck for balance as Jehan fingered through Courf’s hair as his lips lingered on the other’s a while longer. Reluctantly, Jehan broke off and sat back in his seat respectfully, beaming and blushing madly.

Courf sat breathless with an exuberant grin on his face.

“I wanted to say it first.” Jehan admitted, “But I’m glad you did.”

“You’re okay with it?” Courf smiled, “Because I was worried I would ruin our friendship…”

“I’m more than okay with it.” Jehan giggled and Courfeyrac felt his neck turning red with blush.

“By chance, do your elaborate poems confirm that?” Courfeyrac smirked.

Jehan nodded earnestly. “They do…I’m infatuated with you. To quote, you have bewitched me, body and soul.”

“I really do not think I’m up to Jane Austen standards.” Courfeyrac laughed in response and pressed a gentle kiss to Jehan’s lips.

“No, you’re not. You surpass any standard.” Jehan confessed, happily kissing him back and fondly running his fingers down Courf’s jaw line.

“Do you want to get out of here?” Courf asked, not meaning it to be as flirtatious as it had sounded, but nevertheless he smiled at Jehan’s blush. “You’ve had a long day, and I want you to get some rest. You’re welcome at mine.”

“Alright, if you’re sure you don’t mind.” Jehan lit up with appreciation and followed him to the car.

~

Courfeyrac knew Jehan was familiar with his and ‘Ferre’s apartment, but proceeded to tour him about anyways, feeling like he had the obligation now that Jehan was his…his…well, whatever he was unofficially.

“Make yourself at home. Can I get you anything?” Courf practically mothered him out of nervousness.

“Do you have hot chocolate? …With those tiny marshmallows?” Jehan squeaked out innocently which make Courf’s heart flip.

“I think so. I’ll take a look.” He smiled back at Jehan who was now yawning in the most adorable fashion. “You can wear something of mine to sleep in, if you’d like? It’s more comfortable than jeans, trust me.”

Nodding in reply, Jehan walked into Courf’s room, loving the familiar disorderly state of it. It was somehow comforting to him, as if symbolizing nothing had changed, even though they’d both confessed truths to each other not that long ago, that could alter things from here on out.

He hesitated before going through his friend’s dresser, grabbing plaid pajama bottoms and decided perhaps it was too forward to borrow one of Courf’s shirts right now. Mainly because he knew he’d spend far too long inhaling his scent on the fabric, and likely never return it for that very reason.

Sitting on Courfeyrac’s bed in his plaid bottoms, and the same shirt he’d worn all day, Jehan smiled as Courf returned with two mugs of hot chocolate, complete with the dainty marshmallows Jehan admired.

He took the mug, cupping it in his hands and blew on it slightly as Courfeyrac sat down beside him. Absentmindedly, Courfeyrac tucked stray pieces of hair that had fallen from Jehan’s braid, away from his face. This caused the poet to blush and divert his gaze even more.

His shyness amused, yet worried Courfeyrac, as he felt perhaps he’d gone too far in telling Jehan he loved him. It was the truth, so he felt it should be conveyed, but maybe he should have waited with that heavy weight of information.

“Are you okay, Courfeyrac?” Jehan noted the facial expression of his friend, which made him feel slightly guilty for appearing uninterested. “I…I’m happy you said how you feel…in case you were doubting it…” Jehan answered in assumption, and set his hot chocolate on the bedside table, turning to face him.

“I know you say I’m good with words, but poetry feels different to me…It’s still a way for me to disguise the real meaning…I like tiptoeing around the big picture, while you’re more blunt. But I like that.” Jehan continued, trying to set Courf at ease.

Courfeyrac sipped his drink and stared back with a nod. “You’re not just saying that to make me feel better?”

“No, I’m not. I mean it.” Jehan chuckled and pressed a kiss to his nose. Courf sighed in relief and continued with his drink.

“I thought you said you wanted hot chocolate? Why aren’t you drinking it? Is it too hot for you? I’m sorry I c—“

Jehan started laughing again and Courf stopped in confusion.

“What’s so funny?”

“You really don’t get it, do you?”

“…No?”

“Shall I spell it out for you, then?” Jehan suggested, taking Courfeyrac’s mug and setting it down beside his own. Courfeyrac looked at him in curiosity and blushed as Jehan began to cover his face in light kisses. The poet ran his fingers through Courf’s dark curls and inched him closer, so Courf followed suit, wrapping his arms lightly around the boy’s waist.

Courfeyrac captured Jehan’s lips in his own and kissed him with a profound adoration. This pleased the poet, and his fingertips gently tugged at Courf’s curls as he kissed him deeper, parting his lips ever so slightly to give Courf the confirmation that continuing this was perfectly fine with him. Jehan could spend all evening happily in his arms.

“I want you to stay with me, like you’ve been doing throughout finals. I want to know you’re looking out for me, and doing so because you care about me. Courfeyrac, I want nothing more than to be yours.” Jehan whispered against the boy’s lips, causing him to smile in delight.

“Then you’re mine from now on.” Courfeyrac promised wholeheartedly, caressing his cheek.

Jehan smiled with a light blush, and held Courf’s face in his palms, making certain to catch his eye at his final statement, “For the record, I love you, too.”


End file.
